


king-sized

by vermeillons



Series: Small Town AU [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, M/M, Masturbation, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Pining, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermeillons/pseuds/vermeillons
Summary: Even when sleep doesn’t come easy, Laurent finds a way to put his bed to good use.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Series: Small Town AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866964
Comments: 11
Kudos: 156





	king-sized

**Author's Note:**

> _I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once._
> 
> -John Green, _The Fault in Our Stars_

It was 3:30 in the morning when Laurent decided he wasn't going to get any sleep. His insomnia was prime to blame, but recently there had been a recent addition to his life that always sparked a fire in his mind. And this spark was named Damen.

Damianos Akielos, a man as striking as his name promised. President of the student council, prom king, and star quarterback of their high school, it was impossible to never have heard of him, whether through awed whispers in the hallways or cheers from the bleachers. He was someone you just had to look up to—literally—tall and broad and built like a stallion. With sweet brown eyes and that goddamn dimple that made Laurent melt every time he saw them.

Laurent sighed. Wiping the sweat from his face, he glanced at his alarm clock again. It read a bright _3:35_. Had he really just spent the last five minutes thinking of Damen again?

He was being ridiculous. He had to wake for school in less than three hours. But no matter how many times he tossed and turned or flipped the pillow, his mind refused to wander off into the sweet escape of a simple night's rest.

 _Fuck it_ , he thought, and flung off his sheets.

His shirt was tossed on top of them, the air cooling his sweat-damp skin. Since he always slept with his door locked, he stripped off his briefs too. Reaching over to his nightstand, he retrieved a small jar.

He'd have to work with only his hands. In a moment of flinty revenge, Nicaise had once snuck into his room and exposed Laurent's collection of sex toys to their father, who'd furiously had them all tossed. No one could know the mayor's son liked to take it up the ass.

Laurent still got away with purchasing the occasional, unassuming jar of coconut oil. Lube was a no-go and he'd learned all too soon that almond oil stained. As long as he had a towel, things were usually fine. He did use the oil for its _intended_ purpose of moisturizing, but what was wrong with wanting to enjoy himself?

He scooped a dollop and began warming it between his fingers, his other hand working his slowly stiffening cock.

Thumbing the slit, he had to bite his lips to hold back a moan. His father and his brother lay asleep in their rooms just down the hall. Oiled fingers moved down towards his entrance, massaging without force. Laurent rocked his hips into his hands. Two fingers slid inside with practiced ease.

He clenched around them, longing for the heat and swell a real cock would have provided. His hands were woefully too small to be Damen's. But he had long since learned that he could block out anything if he shut his eyes tight enough.

It was Damen pressing Laurent down onto the bed, kissing down from throat to chest. Taking a peaked nipple into his mouth and painting all of Laurent's body in vivid shades of red. Holding him down by the wrists with a single hand, working him up into such a fervid rapture, fucking him into the mattress, and making him scream loud enough for the whole goddamn town to hear.

Three of his fingers crooked hard upwards, making Laurent see stars, and he buried his face into his pillow as he came, feeling the wet stripes of it spilling down his hand. Panting softly, he came to the terrible truth that it wasn't enough. He wanted more, needed it even.

Laurent lay there, playing with himself to pass the time, and thought of what he could do to finally extinguish the fire still ravaging his mind and body. He blinked, looking around his room, and his gaze landed on his bedpost.

It was long, with a conical finial and sleek sides that gradually widened at the base. Black poplar with a rich, umber staining. The silvery moonlight leaking in through the blinds provided just enough light for Laurent to effectively maneuver himself. The silhouette had been more imposing from afar.

Carefully, he wiped it down and began oiling the wood as silently as possible, pausing every so often to be certain the rest of the house was still asleep. The post was glistening with it by the time he'd finished. Better to be safe than sorry.

Laurent perched himself upon his bed, hand gripping the finial for balance as he angled himself over it. He lowered his hips. The tip of it, chilled with oil, startled him at first. Then slowly, he let it sink into him with a glide so effortless it bordered on embarrassing. Emboldened, he took in another two inches. Attempting to fuck himself on it, his hold on it weakened from the odd twist of his arm and his legs wobbled as he lost his support. The post plunged deep into his waiting hole.

Laurent gasped. He was sitting on roughly half of it, the wood breathtakingly solid inside him. His hole burned from the sudden stretch and he felt along his tired rim to check if anything had torn, his stomach fluttering with relief when finding nothing had.

The sensation of being so hopelessly impaled was exhilarating. If he could take something as large and unyielding as this, he could certainly take Damen—the same warm tone of his sun-burnished skin, twice as long but nowhere near as thick. If only Damen could see him like this, see how well Laurent could take his cock, how far he would go to get a taste before making him beg to be fucked by the real thing. If only Damen knew how much Laurent ached for it, maybe he would dick him down out of the sheer kindness of his heart.

He quivered around the post, his body a raw ember ready to catch. Unlike Laurent's slim fingers, it didn't just prod at anything that felt good, it ground against his walls with a heavy friction, making him squirm as he tried not to lose his footing.

It was as if his world had been glazed in honey. His movements lagged, each one decidedly deliberate and agonizingly sweet through a golden haze. Dripping down from his sloppy hole, a deep ache pooled in his hips, winding up his spine and blooming down through his legs till they were trembling. It felt as if he'd been stuck here forever and the thought almost broke him.

He couldn't touch his cock. Not like this. It bobbed in the space before his eyes, weeping for attention. Satiating his sordid desire to be filled had left him hard and abandoned, straining against himself for a release that never seemed to come.

Finding purchase on the footboard, he began fucking himself in earnest. The squelching of his hole stretched obscenely wide around the post filled his ears and flamed his cheeks. The tip thrust into the deepest, most sensitive part of him. Deeper than anything had ever gone. Perhaps ever would.

But it was Damen who had touched him so deeply, ignited him, set him to an everlasting blaze that kept him moaning through countless nights.

“ _Damen_ ”, Laurent's voice was a hush as he came for the second time.

Once he’d descended from his reverie, the hard pressure in his gut reminded him he could stay here for as long as the night gave him. He could fuck himself senseless and go to school the next day, all of his peers none the wiser. Open and wet under his tight uniform, rubbing hard against oversensitive skin. If he ever got Damen alone, Laurent might have been insane enough to pull down his pants and show off what a mess he'd made of himself.

* * *

It was 5:12 when Laurent fell back into bed. By some miracle, neither his father nor his brother had stirred. Laurent had wrung himself dry, coming until it was more pain than pleasure, but he'd loved it all the same.

He felt open, stretched wider than he would have ever thought possible. His mind ash on his lips, his arms throbbed from where he'd bitten screams into the milky flesh. No matter, he could always hide them.

Eyelids growing heavy with sleep, he let them shut and rolled out a shuddering sigh. He should really do this more often. And now that he had Damen to think about, he certainly would.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://vermeillons.tumblr.com)


End file.
